


Ghosts of the Past

by amerasu1013 (amerasu_1013)



Series: Creepy Pinto AUs [2]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: AU, Angst, Character Death, M/M, Postapocalyptic, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-15
Updated: 2011-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:59:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerasu_1013/pseuds/amerasu1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Postapocalyptic AU.<br/><em>Every new face, every new person he knew </em>before<em> is a shock. Zach is s alive, they are dead, he’s alone and yet they are here, ask him why he left and smile with gap-filled teeth and he flees and hides, huddles inside where they don’t follow and shakes and cries until his head hurts.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> The second of three fics I wrote for the Christmas Exchange at ontd_pinto on LJ. The prompt was "creepy atmospheric Pinto AU".  
> (the others are "Obsession" and "What we see")
> 
> **Please heed these warnings: seriously dark and angsty, very sad and character death. Please don't read if you don't like.**

oe is the first one to appear. Zach is working on getting the well to function, has taken the hand pump apart and is trying to figure out what is broken when he sees him. Joe is just standing there, watching him, and Zach freaks out and runs away. He hides in the house, down in the basement, huddled in a corner and reminds himself that it’s not real, that Joe is dead, that it was only a hallucination. It’s over, they are gone, all of them, Joe was before, now he’s alone. Alone.

It takes a long time until Zach’s ready to emerge again, looking around carefully as if Joe might suddenly jump him. He blinks in the harsh sunlight and sobs out a laugh. Joe won’t jump him, he’s dead, he’ll never come back, Zach is alone. His hands are shaking when he starts working on the pump again.

Joe appears again, while Zach is weeding his small garden, hands dirty and neck burnt red, he’s forgotten to wear a hat again. Zach wipes the sweat from his brow and looks up to check the position of the sun, and then he sees him. Joe stands there and watches him, Zach flinches and scrambles back, chest heaving. Joe smiles, one eye glinting at Zach, the other only a dark, weeping hole, and as Zach watches one tooth loosens and falls, hits the ground with a soft sound and Zach screams. He somehow manages to get inside the house, barricades the door and curls up in his bed, clutching a knife, and he cries and cries.

Zach sees him again and again after that. He looks up and suddenly Joe is there, watching him. When he gets water from the well, while he harvests lettuce and radishes from his garden, when he sits on the porch with a glass of lemonade. Joe watches him, smiles at him, and Zach looks at him and cries. Sometimes Joe talks to him, asks him where he’s been, why he left, why he left him alone, voice rusty and croaking, and Zach sobs and hides his face in his hands.

And one day Joe appears together with his mother, Zach drops to his knees and hiccups a sob, and she asks him why he ran away, why he didn’t help her, and Joe looks on and shakes his head in disappointment. Zach cries and reaches for her, tells her he’s sorry, so sorry, but she doesn’t answer, only asks him where he’s been and Zach looks away, curls up and cries because she’s dead, she’s dead.

Then the others start to appear, Joe and his Mom and his neighbors and his friends, they stand there and watch him and talk to him. Every new face, every new person he knew _before_ is a shock. Zach is s alive, they are dead, he’s alone and yet they are here, ask him why he left and smile with gap-filled teeth and he flees and hides, huddles inside where they don’t follow and shakes and cries until his head hurts.

Every time he goes outside they are there, watching him, asking and smiling, but he has to go outside, to get food and water, and they follow him and grin, and Zach tries to hit them with a shovel but they just smile and don’t back off. They don’t touch him, not yet, but Zach thinks it’s only a matter of time until they do, and he builds traps around his house and his garden, holes with pointed sticks in them and hidden slings and finds a foothold trap with large teeth of iron. He has to walk carefully now, remember where the traps are so he won’t hurt himself, but he feels better now that they are here. Joe and the others still follow him, still watch him and smile, but he’s safe now, they can’t hurt him.

And now he talks to them, sometimes, tells Joe and his Mom that he misses them, shows them his carefully planted garden and the fruits and herbs he grows, tells them about his day. He pretends their smiles are agreements, their questions mean they want to hear more, he still flinches when they come near and he still cries sometimes, when Joe asks him why Zach didn’t bury his body or when his Mom wants to know why he ran away, but most of the time it’s okay.

Then one day, when he wanders over to the cornfield to see if the cobs are ripe enough to be harvested, he sees Chris. He looks better than Joe and his Mom and the others, more healthy and whole, but his clothes are blood-stained and he smiles, stands there near the field and watches him and Zach runs. He’d thought it was over, but no, Chris is there now, and Zach hides in the basement again, clutching a knife, he shakes and shivers, remembers Chris, remembers _before_ , when they were happy, when they laughed and talked, when they went on dates and watched movies together, curled up on Zach’s couch, when they kissed and Chris told him “I love you”. He remembers, thinks of Chris’ blue eyes now closed from the world, unruly hair covered by dirt, that beautiful face empty and slack as Chris’ body lies in a ditch somewhere. And he cries.

It gets dark and Zach ventures outside slowly, carefully, still clutching the knife, a soothing weight in his hands, although it won’t help much against them, against Chris. He looks around, sees Joe and Anton and Karl, but not Chris. He breathes out slowly and gathers his resolve. He’s thirsty and needs to go to the well, he inches forward slowly, throwing looks over his shoulder and flinching at every sound. He reaches the well, still no Chris. The pump creaks loudly in the dark empty night, and Zach works quickly, fills the bucket and starts to carry it back.  
Then he hears it.

A voice, calling for him, screaming his name, from the direction of the corn field, loud and anguished, and he drops the bucket and runs, runs from Chris’ voice and hides under his bed. He can still hear him faintly in here, and he shoves his fingers in his ears, squeezes his eyes shut and rocks forward and backward, chanting “Nonono” under his breath. This is too much, too much, Chris is here now, Chris, he can’t take it, he can’t. Not him, not Chris.

He falls asleep at some point during the night and wakes up with a crick in his neck, muscles stiff and complaining from the cramped space he has pressed himself into. He straightens and stands, rolls his head on his shoulders and ventures outside. Chris is silent now, no more calls for Zach, and Joe and the others are nowhere in sight. He fidgets and worries his lower lip, then decides. He picks up the shotgun leaning next to the door, checks that it’s loaded and walks over to the cornfield. His steps slow down as he nears the spot where had seen Chris yesterday; he hesitates and clutches the shotgun – but doesn’t stop.

He sees him. Chris is lying on the ground, leg inside the foothold trap, teeth biting into his pants leg. Zach creeps closer, stares down at him, eyes roaming that familiar body, now bloody and dirty, leg twisted at an unnatural angle, silent and unmoving. The ground around Chris is disturbed, his pants where the leg is clamped inside the trap torn and bloody, as if Chris had tried to get free and follow him, and Zach shivers and is glad he installed the trap.

He takes another step towards Chris, shaking slightly, and looks at him. Chris’ face is peaceful, he looks as if he were sleeping, mouth open slightly and that familiar curve to his lips, cheeks rosy and healthy, long lashes throwing shadows on his cheekbones. Chris looks so real, so alive, and Zach sobs as he remembers.

Then Chris’ eyes open.

They focus on Zach, Chris smiles at him, showing bloody teeth, Zach is frozen and stares. Chris whispers “Zach”, reaches for him, and then his hand closes on Zach’s ankle. Zach screams, cold fingers burning his flesh and Chris whispers his name again. He tries to yank his leg from Chris’ grip, whimpers and tries to scramble back, and Chris whispers “help me” and “Zach” and he panics, remembers the gun in his hands. Chris’ eyes are dark and bruised as he grins at him, he uses Zach’s ankle to pull him back, closer towards that bloody smile, and Zach raises the gun, Chris’ eyes widen and his mouth forms a surprised “O” and Zach fires.

He drops the gun as Chris slumps back, as fingers loosen on his ankle, and he runs, falls down and skins his knees on the rough ground, scrambles up and runs, and he barricades himself in the house and flees to his basement, huddles in a corner and shakes. He doesn’t leave the basement for three days, only ventures out to get food and water, hastens to get back down, curls up on the hard floor and cries for Chris until his eyes are empty, until his heart is empty.

He doesn’t go near the cornfield again. The winter comes, he spends it inside with Joe and the others looking through the windows as he tidies his house, learns to knit scarves and hats and blankets, as he decorates a small tree and lights candles for everyone he knew before. He has trouble remembering all their names, and he lights a few extra, in case he forgot someone. Chris’ candle is red and smells like roses, and Zach watches the small flame flicker and smiles sadly.

It’s spring now; Zach tidies his garden and plants lettuce and herbs and fruits and decides to experiment with cauliflower. Then he remembers the cornfield. He walks over slowly, wondering if any of the cobs have survived the winter or if he’ll have to look at the small farm supplies shop in town to get new seeding material. He misses popcorn.

Then he sees it.

The foothold trap glints in the morning sun, but it’s the bones that draw his attention. White bones, scattered around by rodents who fed on the animal who got caught in the trap, a wild dog maybe. But the bones are too large for a dog, much too large, and then Zach sees the skull and his legs give out. He falls to the ground and stares, a human skull with empty eye sockets and grinning teeth, and there’s a tuft of light brown hair, and there’s a piece of cloth, and there are shoes, dirty and grimy, almost hidden by last year’s fallen leaves.

Zach recognizes that shirt, it was Chris’ favorite, and he’s seen it before, last year, before the winter came and covered the body with snow. And now Zach remembers Chris looking rosy and healthy, looking alive and his heart sinks. None of the others, not Joe or Karl or John or Mrs. Hanson ever got caught in a trap, none of them ever touched him, but Chris did, he got caught and he touched Zach, he was alive, alive, not like the others, and Zach could have saved him but he didn’t. He didn’t, he didn’t, no, he shot Chris, he killed him.

And Zach falls backwards, lies on his back and stares at the sky, in the corners of his eyes he sees Joe and all the others appear, gather in a circle around him, but not Chris, no, because Chris is lying there next to him. And Zach laughs and laughs, the others come closer, and he laughs as his heart breaks.

  
THE END…


End file.
